Your Triggers Are Your Teacher
What Pancakes, Panic, and Parenting in Recovery Taught Me About Breaking the Cycle
It became our tradition: warm pancakes, sleepy kids, a kitchen filled with comfort.
What I didn’t know then was that this simple ritual would become the backdrop for one of the hardest parenting moments I’ve ever faced.
You want to do it differently. But what happens when your body panics before your brain can respond?
I don’t remember exactly when it started, but Pancake Sundays became a sacred tradition in our home.
My husband flips the hotcakes on a cast iron griddle, and our five kids come padding in with rumpled pajamas and sleepy eyes, drawn by the scent of melted butter and vanilla-sweet batter rising in the air. There’s syrup dripping down fingers, laughter echoing between bites, and always, always, one more pancake in the queue.
And I love it. Or at least, I want to.
Because Pancake Sunday isn’t just a family tradition.
For me, it’s a reclaiming.
It reminds me of the Mickey Mouse waffles my dad used to make, cinnamon and brown sugar curling through the air as we perched on the counter and waited for steam to rise from his old waffle iron. Those waffles meant safety. Slowness. Dad was home.
So every Sunday, as my husband pours batter onto the griddle and the kids giggle and watch the bubbles form, I hold those memories close and try to give them new life.
But as we know, healing isn’t linear.
Sometimes, even the traditions you cherish become battlegrounds you never saw coming.
It started on a normal Sunday several years ago. A plate of pancakes on the table. Bacon sizzling. Oranges sliced. And my 7-year-old, reaching again and again for more.
She piled pancake after pancake onto her plate, smothering them in butter and syrup, devouring each one with joy—and absolutely no hesitation.
Meanwhile, my chest tightened.
I watched her take a fifth. Then a sixth. I could feel my palms sweating, my shoulders tense. My whole body buzzed with panic. It was like my skin didn’t fit right. My heart pounded so loudly I wondered if she could hear it. I could feel the heat rising in my neck, my jaw tightening, a knot hardening in my chest with each bite she took.
I was trying to stay present. I repeated the mantras I learned. “Parents provide. Children decide. Trust her. Trust her. Trust her.”
But a part of me didn’t.
That old food police voice—the one I thought I’d long silenced—was suddenly blaring.
“She’s out of control.”
“That’s too much.”
“You’re failing. Say something. Stop her.”
My daughter continued eating, unbothered.
Her siblings had long since finished and disappeared into their play, but she lingered—still hungry, still reaching, as if the pancakes were holding something only she could feel.
She was still in her pajamas, humming to herself between bites—syrup on her chin, legs swinging under the bench. She reached for another pancake as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it was. But my body didn’t believe that. Inside, I was spiraling—my breath shallow, my shoulders locked, my mind screaming silently: “Make it stop.”
And then I snapped.
I stood up from the bench so fast that the legs screeched against the floor. Before I could stop myself, I snatched her plate from beneath her—mid-bite, mid-moment—like the panic had taken the wheel.
“That’s ENOUGH.”
The sound of my voice startled me.
She froze. Her eyes were wide. Hurt. Confused.
She hadn’t done anything wrong.
But I had.
It was like I’d left my body and watched someone else take over—I stormed into the kitchen, hurled her plate into the trash, slammed the lid, and fled.
Have you ever found yourself panicking over how much your child is eating—even when your heart wants to trust them?
Have you ever reacted in a way that left you wondering, “Did I just damage her?”
(And if you’ve ever had a moment like this—a moment you wish you could erase—you’re not alone. You’re not a bad mom. You’re a mother in recovery, holding more than most people will ever understand.)
I locked the bathroom door behind me and sank onto the tile floor. The cold didn’t ground me—it just confirmed how numb I felt. My reflection in the mirror looked stunned—like I’d just watched myself hurt someone I love. Tears came hot and fast. I stared at myself and thought,
“What have I done?”
What had I unleashed on her? On this moment we were supposed to share?
What message had I sent about food? About her body? Her hunger? Her joy?
I remembered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that panic. To be told I couldn’t be trusted. That my hunger was dangerous. That I needed to be monitored, managed, and micromanaged.
And here I was—repeating the very cycle I’d vowed to break.
The shame was unbearable.
I wanted to disappear. I wanted to take it all back.
But beneath the shame, something softer stirred.
This wasn’t a failure. It was a flare.
And friend, here’s what I want you to know:
When our nervous system perceives threat, even in the form of pancakes, it does what it was wired to do: protect.
The control? The panic? The impulse to snatch the plate?
That wasn’t cruelty. It was pain.
It was fear wearing the mask of protection.
That panic you felt?
It wasn’t proof you’re broken—it was a teacher in disguise.
Your trigger was trying to tell you something: “There’s still tenderness here. Let’s go gently.”
So many of us are walking around with these protective parts still activated—shaped by years of disordered eating, body shame, and food scarcity.
We aren’t broken.
We’re carrying pain that hasn’t had space to soften.
And when we sit across from our child, whose appetite feels endless, whose joy feels unsafe, whose hunger mirrors our deepest wounds—it can feel like a threat.
But it’s not.
It’s an invitation.
To pause.
To witness.
To re-attune.
You don’t have to overcorrect.
You don’t have to clamp down, shut it off, or shut it down.
You can stay. You can breathe. You can come back.
That’s what the Feeding Without Fear workshop is for.
In this 90-minute live experience, we’ll unpack the real reason food still feels so hard—and give you tools to shift from reactivity to regulation, with compassionate language prompts, somatic tools, and nervous system support.
This isn’t a lecture—it’s a space to exhale.
Not more scripts to memorize or rules to follow—but real tools that meet you where you are and help you stay grounded in the moments that matter most.
To walk with you into the places where panic still sits at your table, and offer something gentler.
This isn’t just about learning what to say.
It’s about understanding why it feels so hard to say it.
Feeding Without Fear is the first-of-its-kind workshop for mothers in eating disorder recovery—designed to address the deeper nervous system responses and unhealed food stories fueling your reactivity at the table.
Together, we’ll unpack:
✓ Why your child’s appetite feels like a threat—and how to calm the alarm bells
✓ What your food triggers are really trying to tell you
✓ How to reframe control as a response to pain, not a flaw
✓ How to rebuild trust at the table (even after a moment like mine)
Can’t make it live? You’ll get full access to the replay, so you can revisit the tools anytime your nervous system needs a breath.
You don’t need to be further along to be here. You don’t need to “get it all together” first. This isn’t about getting it perfect.
It’s about showing up with your full heart, exactly where you are, and learning to parent yourself and your child with more gentleness and trust.
I’ll be walking with you every step. This is the workshop I wish I had, and now I’ve built it for us both.
If you’ve ever thought:
“Why am I still reacting like this? I know better. I’ve done the work.”
This space is for you.
💛 Special Bonus for Early Registrants
If you save your seat by 11:59 PM on Wednesday, June 11, you’ll receive two exclusive resources designed to support you long after the workshop ends:
✨ Snack Time Script Pack: Navigating Feeding Moments for Mothers in Recovery
– Gentle, ready-to-use language to help you respond (not react) during high-stress snack situations—especially when fear, guilt, or food rules try to take over.
✨ Somatic Reset Guide: For Mothers in Eating Disorder Recovery
– Simple, body-based tools to help calm your nervous system in real time, so you can return to presence and peace when food feels overwhelming.
These are only available to those who register by Wednesday night—and they’ll help you implement what you learn in Feeding Without Fear the very next day.
There’s no perfect time to begin.
But this moment?
It’s already here. And it’s enough.
👉 Save Your Seat + Claim Your Bonuses
Because this work isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence.
And there is still time to shift the story.
You don’t need another book or strategy.
You need a safe place to meet yourself in the moment—and a way to walk out of it with more peace.
That’s what Feeding Without Fear is.
👉 [I’m In—Let’s Feed Without Fear]
You’ll leave this 90-minute experience not just with tools—but with relief. A breath. A knowing you’re not alone. That healing is still possible—even at the table, even in the hard moments. Especially there.
You’re not just feeding your child. You’re feeding the story they’ll carry. Let’s help you make it one of trust—not fear.
Let’s rewrite what feeding your child can feel like—together.
With you,
Crystal
P.S. Doors close at 11:59 PM on Wednesday if you want the bonuses. But more than that? You deserve to feel safe at the table. Save your seat here → [Yes—Save My Seat + Bonuses]